François-Michel Le Tellier
François-Michel Le Tellier (10 May, 1685- 4 June, 1737) was the Marquis de Louvois. The youngest son of the previous Marquis, François quietly succeeded his father as the head of House Le Tellier adfter the death of his older siblings. Early Life and Family François-Michel was born at his father's residence called Chateau de Clermonceau. Being so late in his mother's life, the birth of François proved to be too much for her and she died only 2 days after he was born. His father was rather embittered by this, and rather disliked spending more than a few hours a month with his youngest son. At his christening, François was given his name: François-Michel. Though it seems rather bland a name, the name Michel was very common for the family, to the point of it being unusually popular from generation to generation. His father's treatment of François was infamously cruel. The then-Marquis rarely spent time with him, and often beat him and called him a brat as a child. This had an odd effect on François, as he seemingly was so determined for that not to be repeated that he doted on his sons in the future. Malnourished and mistreated, François often turned to his siblings for guidance. He was rather close to his sister Marie, who treated him most like a friend compared to the other siblings of the household. His oldest brother, Jean-Baptiste, was rather annoyed that a new child was in the house. Henri rather liked the young François, though he considered the young boy to be like that of a live infant doll. Adrien, though 8 years his senior, treated François most like an intellectual equal, though they had such opposing interests. Much of the boy's childhood was marked by frequent rigorous education. Despite being heavily mistreated by his father, François had immense energies in his youth. Flamboyant and kindhearted, the young boy wanted nothing more than to be in vast parties, but sacrificed party time for learning, as his father would often beat him if he did not spend up to 15 hours daily in tutoring. François began to look to education as a temporary escape, while he waited and dreamed of being old enough to be free to relish in the company of joy. By age 9, the young boy was considered to be well-educated considering his class. François became well educated in literature, Italian, Portuguese, Spanish, History, and the arts, and even learned to play the harp. In December of 1694, François lost the brother he was closest to, Adrien, who died rather suddenly. This resulted in much uneasiness within the household. Henri and Jean-Baptist constantly quarreled with one another while their father sent Marie off to marry quite young by 1698. François remained isolated from his family for years, instead going to the great Salons of Paris and attending court independently. A very handsome man in his younger days, ever so lean and athletic, he was considered the life of the party wherever he attended aside from court, his quick wit and intellect often proving his ability to judge and hilariously comment even in mild malice with the audiences around him reacting with thunderous applause and laughter. Becoming the Marquis and First Marriage After the loss of both his surviving brothers by the end of 1709, the 24 year old François was the heir to his rather unhappy and bitter father. The elderly Marquis was very displeased by the loss of his family around him. Having out-lived many of his generation, the 69 year old Jean was extremely depressed. He withdrew from court in early 1711 following the death of his daughter Marie-Elisabeth, leaving François to conduct business and attend court. This is where François met Louise Madeline de Ventadon, the Demoiselle d'Elernay. The two were very soon inseperable, despite the Duc's best efforts to divide the two, and François eventually forced the Marquis to allow them to marry. Their romance of two years would soon become fruitful, when in 1712 a son was born, named Louis-Michel. François was soon made Marquis de Louvois and subsequently the head of the House, as his father finally died in 1713. François was ironically mournful of the loss of his father who caused him such pain. He wore black for double the usual mourning time, though when mourning came to an end for the new Marquis, he returned to his usual business and pleasures. Few knew, however, until the very day he died, he would get rather upset in privy of his closest friends upon thinking of his father or worse yet Louise, who died the following year in childbirth after bearing a second son. It was known frequently as rumor to the court that he would weep in thick nights of deep contemplation. The flamboyant François was quite often embarrassed by this, even though few knew of this occurrence. He considered it to be rather an unwarranted show of emotion that no one should be privy to, similar to an unconcealed blemish that fights and violently resists any and all attempts to cover. The Marquis would only remain at peace when around his two sons, whom he adored with all his energies. Friends and lovers alike often commented on François' devotion to his sons and his determination for them to be brought up with confidence, piety, and virtuosity. As time continued, François became very hidden from those around him. He was known to perplex countless individuals because of his wit, but then as he closed himself off from the world mentally, even fewer of those around him could tell what he was thinking. It was not until much later in life that he returned to being more open to the world once more. During this darker period in his life, François began an emotional connection to Jules Hardouin d'Yves, a Baron from the southeast. The two were equally matched in wits, and also equally flamboyant. Their relationship was oddly not physical, considering the two's age and supposed drive. It is unknown why they chose not to become physical, but they were almost always seen together for more than 5 years. Were it not for this relationship, it is said that François would possibly have died much younger. In June of 1724, the year following a long bout of depression, the couple split ways on mutual agreement. They remained friends until Jules died in 1731. His death was sparsely commented upon; François himself only speaking the deceased's name once, to his friend Marie-Clémence Gabrielle the Madamoiselle de Mortemart. Final Affair Around April of 1734, the aged François began a passionate affection towards a lower noble named Jeanne Antoinette de Clermont de Tonnerre. He met her at a Salon in Paris, one which he had been hosting. Jeanne, who had a mutual affection, began writing to François that Spring, thus beginning a short but almost iconic affair between the two. It was the happiest the Marquis had been in quite a long time. He met with her privately and frequently throughout their affair, the entire event being the gossip of court for quite a while. Words flew that they were even to be married. While the two would've wanted nothing more than to marry, they could not. Jeanne was married off to foreign noble by her father, and died in Prussia in the harsh Winter of January 1735. The heartbroken François resolved never to fall in love again. He continued to put on a rather bold face, though he lost much of his flamboyance that he had in his youth. His wit, however, remained extremely sharp, though in his later years the nobles and courtiers and such he surrounded himself with noted his loss of heart. The sudden death of his son Henri in October of 1736 would have a profound effect on the Marquis. He hardly spoke for a month, and wept frequently in private. He was granted leave from court to compose himself in this time, until he returned shortly following New Years 1737, when he reverted back to his usual sharp-witted self. He hardly spoke of the event for the rest of his life, though such time would be short Second Marriage and Becoming Grand Maitre de la Maison In Late April of 1737, the Marquis was wishing to remarry. This was not truly for love, but instead he was rather wishing an alliance with another house. The Grand Almoner of the Court finally resolved this issue by betrothing François to Marie Jeanette Hortense, Madamoiselle de Mortemart. The aged Marquis by the time of his marriage had lost not only the interest for consummation but also the willingness to deal with many of the constant petty squabbles that filled the court gossip. François frequently would avoid contact with much of the court, excluding his wife and friends and of course members of the Imperial Family. He tried to make clear to his wife that her extra-marital dalliances were indeed encouraged for her own pleasure, and that he swore to do her no harm. In the early days of the marriage, François gave Jeanette the keys to the Domain de la Marquise in Clermonceau for her private use until his death. This was also to rather distract her from his more chaste life. This is not to say that François disliked his second wife. In actuality he truly did enjoy her company, and cared for her and wanted her happiness above his own. He merely had lost the drive as his health began to deteriorate. Shortly following the wedding ceremony, François was appointed Grand Maitre de la Maison. He took this duty very seriously, showing once more his rigorous work ethic even at is old age. The Marquis had an almost obsession with perfection in his old age, being severely embarrassed by the most trivial matters. He grew ever-so distant from his friends and family, trying even harder to work to the benefit of the Court's efficiency. François also took to an old flame of interest in his later years: paying attention to fashion. His time at the Salons of the capital took a hasty decimation as he began to see the flaws of their ideals in comparison to his own in philosophical thought. He began to fill the spare time he had with paying attention to fashion on every level. He followed the trends of the Imperial Family very frequently, often being within the new trends before even some of the higher members of court bothered to take notice. While he had little ability to travel in his much later years, he would frequently save what energies he had to spend at court, often in the carousels of clothes that ushered through the nobility. That being said, François would more frequently not interact with anyone in the carousels, instead merely purchasing things in silence. His life-of-the-party lifestyle of the past had officially come to a close, as his age finally caught up to him, leading to a more sobering life. Instead, he replaced it with quiet debates in private as well as vast carousels. François, an oddly moderate man in political ideology, was a Philosophe. He considered it the duty of the monarch to protect the people's individual rights, though he was a philosophe who believed that the Church and Absolutism are integral in society and governing, thus believing in despotism with loyal intentions. Though many absolutists disliked him, they often did not completely disagree. Many philosophes agreed with his ideals of protection of rights and urging of the endorsement of charity, though François was often excluded from many salons because of his ideal of the protection of the Church and Absolutism. The 52-year-old Marquis was often seen hobbling about court conducting his business, independent from what often caused trials and tribulations among his friends. When necessary, he would comment, though his silence or shortest of comments were often filled with the most impact. This made him quite the shark at court as well as in the few salons or debates he would partake in. Even his closest friends could easily fall prey to his remarks, though most of his remarks were not intended against one's person, rather their actions and moments of contradiction. In the Service of the Empire François spent much of the remainder of his life in such rigorous work he would sleep rarely. His schedule began before even the most distant of nobles attending court. The Marquis's day would begin at 4 AM, when he would rise in his chambers at court and write replies to letters delivered to him the night before as well as sign documents off involving matters of his lands. He would then leave his rooms and attend court for the majority of the day. He would often retire to his rooms much later than most others, having many things to do around the palace such as deliver letters and arrange meetings. He would usually return to his rooms at around 1AM, receiving more letters and reading them, and continuing his work until usually retiring shortly thereafter, though he was known to work until almost an hour before he was to rise. This rigorous took a toll on François's health, though he often refused to address these issues at court. Even his own best friends could not halt him from working so very vigorously. The Marquis's days at court were seemingly numbered, though this was known by few. As he aged, François would suffer severe bouts of depression, masked largely by false smiles and working. He took little solace in truly anything, and would privately weep behind closed doors. Those who lived near his rooms often remarked "There seems to be a phantom of pain and ill around His Grace, as all he may do is mourn." His own wife could do nothing to console his sorrows, as all he could do was remember. Most of those around him were too young to reminisce with the Marquis, who was older than much of the court around him. His son ceased writing to him in this time, as François would seldom reply with more than a single word. Those around him became rather irritated by his short answers in many things, and he would frequently distance himself from his friends when he was not engulfing himself in his duties. He attempted to ask assistance on the matter of health and sanity, though he rarely afforded the time to discuss his issues with anyone other than the Cardinal de Mortemart. Praying and acts to counter sin were doing little to console his sorrows. He would not eat many meals except at gatherings, nor would he be as strong on his feet with gossip. He became rather a bore, a sad and decrepit old bore. The death of his friend, the Marquise de Montespan, obliterated what little liveliness he had left. The Marquise was his sister-in-law, and he saw her as a dearest and closest friend. At the cards game at court on the day of her death, the Marquise had very failing vision, and was incorrectly seeing her cards to be higher than they were. François, knowing that the Marquise was ill and possibly dying, only wanted her happiness. Her happiness and eccentricity kept him going. He declared her the winner each time, so he could see her happy face beaming, and after she ran out of the room, declared that he would pay her cards debts, so that she would not have to worry about them. He knew that her losing at cards was like losing a child to Gabrielle, and at that state he was certainly not going to see Gabble become upset, and if losing at cards was more important to him than a friend's happiness, then there was no reason for the Marquis de Louvois to be there. The absence of his friend ended what happiness he was able to sustain at gatherings, and he would soon be void of living. The empty slot of his life was signified by the wearing of a black ribbon, which he wore dutifully for the remainder of his life, though it would be very short. Final Weeks The Marquis de Louvois had been hiding his ills very well until after the death of the Marquise de Montespan. He refused to allow his arthritis to hinder his abilities until the pains in his hands and shoulder grew too strong, thus having a servant write for him. Shortly following his marriage to Hortense, he was secretly diagnosed with consumption, though he kept this under such severe secrecy that very few in court knew of this to the point that not even his only nephew knew of this fact. He would stifle coughs while his throat was often covered in sores, as was the inside of his mouth, making very painful to eat, drink, or speak. Many grew tired of the old man's short responses, but, he would never wish to inconvenience those who relied on him with his own personal issues. He was distant at court for the remainder of his life, hardly ever really being there, merely going through the motions. The bore of an old man was essentially an extravagant shell, a ghostly apparition of court from a time forgotten. Courtiers often noted that as time grew to a close for François, he would not participate in what would usually make him happy. He ceased attending parties altogether and rather suddenly unless Court was brought, and ceased at playing cards at court as an enjoyment and more as an occupation. It was indeed the end of an era for the Marquis, He was no longer amused with anything, and instead took it upon himself to be the burden of the court. It got to the point that he was often frowned upon by the court itself. Only the Empress really gave him much care outside of his family, who tried to no avail to cheer François up. At the Ball that honored the late Marquise de Montespan, François was most oddly out of place. He wildly under-bet in the 5 rounds of cards he played in, excluding the 3rd, which he lost 13,000 livre. François was startlingly uncaring of this amount, which was out of his character. He usually was very careful of what he bet, how much he bet, and when he bet. At dinner, he hardly ate enough to feed a bird, having very small portions of one or two servings in each course. He did, however, enjoy himself at the gathering. He seemed strangely optimistic for a few glimpses of time, genuinely smiling for the first time in months. This happiness was soon, however, replaced with duty as he returned to court, where he refused to play cards once again, and could hardly stand. François attended the handover of the Dauphine, whom he rather enjoyed meeting. He was responsible for introducing her to the court she was plunged into, and tried very hard to fulfill this. He feared he was too cold to the new courtier, and was very worried that the Dauphine had the wrong impression of him, an impression of being some old man on the verge of dropping to the ground, which was although true not what he had intended. He would write to her frequently for the last days of his life, in an attempt to be her friend. His heir would also follow suit in this, as though it had become a tradition. Shortly following the wedding of the Dauphin and Dauphine, François suffered a very minor heart attack. He didn't say a word though showed very obvious discomfort and clenched his chest for much of the evening. He refused to allow this to remove him from court, as he believed his pain to be caused by nothing more than chest pains, at the worst perhaps a hiatal hernia. He attended the coucher, and he also mustered the strength to deliver Her Majesty's paperwork for the meeting, before being dismissed to retire and endure the agony. The following day, the Marquis was not well. He had gone rather pale and gray in the face, and seemed to be rather distressed. He'd been waiting for weeks for his son Louis, who was supposed to have been at court before the wedding. When Louis indeed arrived at court, merely setting up his living arrangements, François did not recognize him as they passed one another, and Louis had neglected to even take notice of his aged father passing by. Little did either of them know that that would be nearly their last interaction, as François would not live much longer. As the day progressed, he seemed out of place. He'd say something and in the middle of a sentence completely forget what he was saying. He'd stare at things very vaguely, as it appeared he had also suffered a stroke or perhaps some other cerebral issue. Either way, he refused to leave court, doing everything in his strength to remain to his duties. The Dauphine, seeing his discomforts, had chicory water given to him, which indeed assisted him, as he would often skip chances to eat or drink while at court, even when offered by servants, so that he would miss as little of anything as possible. After attending the Opera, the court's return to the Louvre for the night much relieved the Marquis, for fearing that he may die in a public venue and inconvenience someone he was uneasy the entire time, as well as the subsequent dinner at the Dauphin's apartment. With what energy he had left, he brought himself to his room and conducted his business as usual. Entering his room the night, he looked out his door before closing it, seeing his son passing by. The two gentlemen nodded to each other, both still being unaware the identities of one another, probably because they hadn't seen each other since Louis's marriage in 1727. The following morning, François needed assistance in everything. Servants assisted his walking, his standing, his everything. He skipped his own breakfast to save time, being slowly moved about Court doing his duties. He attended the Breakfast of Her Majesty for the last day, and Did what he could all day. He refused to leave court, for fear it would inconvenience the court. As the day was relatively uneventful, he spent most of his time in the Empress's office, delivering papers. His last official action was a passing of papers from Provincial nobles who weren't yet at court. He shortly thereafter returned to court in the salon and stared out the window, sitting on a bench. Suffering a final stroke, his eye suddenly widened as he stared at the sunset. He was noted by Madame la Princesse and Monsieur le Prince, who were keeping him company at the time, to have said "All my stars, I come to thee upon leaving much brightness of the company around me" before closing his eyes as the sun left for the day. It took all of 2 seconds to notice that the Marquis had stopped rather suddenly. The Marquis de Louvois died the way he lived: surrounded by the court. As he fell from his seat, his face was finally at peace, with the exception of a single tear, still sitting on his cheek. His son, Louis, entered the room, shortly after his death, finally learning that his father is indeed dead. The Grand Almoner gave him posthumous last rites, and the Marquis was laid to rest with no ceremony. His resting place is marked only by an ossuary in the Chateau de Brienne-Abigail, unnamed. No one was to mourn in public. His Last Will was enacted the day following his death. Louis-Michel became the next Marquis de Louvois, and legal Head of the House, as a 25-year-old widower. Issue François had 2 sons with his first wife. They were born relatively close together. * Louis-Michel (19 April, 1712 - 17 January, 1758) * Henri-Dieudonne (10 July, 1714 - 11 October, 1736) Known Sayings François was very well known for his quick wit in his younger years. As time went on, however, he was more solemn and enveloped in his work. He was a very bitter man in private, and the majority of his later times at court were spent in solemn duty. That being said, François was very recognizable for what he would say to those around him. * He was once known to remark, a few years after his first wife's death, that he was lacking something he'd always somewhat wanted: a daughter to respect as he had his elder sister. He spoke to his dear friend the Baron d'Yves regarding this: "Two sons, the blessing of any other father. I love them so, though I am missing what most other fathers consider inferior. Two sons are like two suns, they are bright and strong and full of a light to share with the world, but what will the night do when there are two suns, and no moon?" * When it became known that François had taken to an affair with the Mademoiselle de Clermont, his family was rather displeased. His son, though not judging him, told his father of the rest of the family's disgust. His reply was quite simple:"Let the little salamanders quarrel. I shall simply remind them of their place, for without me and my decisions, the lot of them would be in the Brienne Pit all too prematurely." * Someone once stopped him in his busy day to ask him how he works so vigorously. His response was simple "I am a noble. If I do not work for the Crown, I am a weakling that ought not to be here. I'm sure a few here will soon find in time that such truths go beyond myself." Category:17th Century Births Category:House Le Tellier Category:Imperial Household Category:Grandelumierian Marquis Category:Grandelumierian Nobility Category:18th Century Deaths